


Brief Candle's Shadow

by friendoftheJabberwock



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Angst, Enjolras Is Bad At Feelings, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Grantaire is a Mess, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25924561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/friendoftheJabberwock/pseuds/friendoftheJabberwock
Summary: "Are you admitting for once that you might not actually be the perfect little golden-haired genius who knows everything?"Enjolras is full of last-minute doubts. Grantaire knows the feeling.
Relationships: Enjolras & Grantaire (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Brief Candle's Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

From afar, it's almost a pathetic tableau – a pile of scavenged furniture, mere boys scattered around the street, and a steady fall of rain. In the midst of the scene, though, it seems like the whole world is spinning faster than ever before.

Then there's Enjolras, who doesn't know what to think or feel any more. He walks towards the one member of their company who seems able to accept this sort of lack of clarity. But Enjolras is no good at sharing feelings that aren't befitting of young revolutionaries, and quite accomplished when mocking Grantaire. So he takes the easy way out.

"You're unbelievable. Tomorrow will be the most important day of our unimportant lives, and yet you insist on getting thoroughly drunk anyway."

"If our lives are that unimportant, does it matter if I'm drunk?"

Enjolras begins to laugh in a manner that unsettles them both. "Damn you. I'm an aspiring revolutionary, not a logician."

"You said _aspiring_ revolutionary? Are you admitting for once that you might not actually be the perfect little golden-haired genius who knows everything?"

"No, I'm –"

Enjolras can't see Grantaire rolling his eyes in the increasing darkness – he doesn't need to. And there's only so long he can maintain a façade of Genius and Knowing Everything.

"Fine. That's exactly what I'm saying. I'm just another idiot who likes to stand up and sound impressive. And somewhere along the way I managed to collect a group of the best people I've ever known, and I think… I think I'm about to get them all killed tomorrow." He stared at the ground and considered the more immediate situation. "And why am I even telling you this?"

"You're talking to me right now because you figured I'd understand – I do – and wouldn't think less of you for it – I don't. You're not just another idiot. Believe me, I wouldn't be ready to die at your little pet barricade if you were."

"Thanks, but –"

"No buts. Look at me. Mostly I just sit in a corner, drink too much, and listen to other people try to change the world while I try not to hate myself too much. Then you and your band of crazies come along, and suddenly I'm acting all stupidly idealistic too. But I'm still a drunk with self-esteem issues, and I just –"

"No buts."

"Right."

They sit in silence now. The rain increases, pouring from the sky and landing on nearby rooftops, where it spills from the eaves and briefly collects on the cobblestones before funneling deep into the sewers.

Grantaire breaks the silence with a profound observation.

"It's spectacularly wet out here."

"Yes indeed."

"You know, when I imagined what my last night would be like, there were at least some stars and shit."

"Expectations don't always line up with reality, I suppose."

Grantaire snorts. "I hate reality."

"Me too, actually."

Grantaire hesitates, and then hands Enjolras his whiskey bottle. Enjolras grabs it with both hands and takes a large gulp, before nearly coughing it all back up again.

"It burns!"

"Weakling."

Enjolras punches Grantaire, who ignores him and takes an exaggerated swig from the bottle. Enjolras snorts, and soon they're both cackling like the mad fools they are. The coming onslaught seems distant and even absurd when their laughter is the only sound on this quiet Paris street.

Who needs celestial stars when the human equivalent is right beside you?

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a thing. Your thoughts on said thing (positive or otherwise) are always appreciated!


End file.
